We are suspended between disappearances. It is not black over Bill’s mother, she has simply disappeared, together with the Lammermuir and the Cheviot, all quietly erased by smirr. The wet hangs, bone-chilling, in the air. Drainage ditches are lipping with weak tea and the water table has escaped, with glassy sheets covering fanned out buttercupsContinue reading “Crewel weather”
Tag Archives: Highland cows
New Habits
The same, but different is the new Ruthven House motto. We finally unpacked enough boxes to enable Mum to move into her new house in the middle of the month. There remain a number of cardboard hold outs, squirrelled away in corners where Mum thinks I don’t know about them, and a vast realm ofContinue reading “New Habits”
New year nip
Things are gradually getting back to normal. All our visitors have gone now and, aside from intermittent confrontations in the battlefield of Mum’s unpacking (usually after a landmine discovery of yet another box of china/glassware/towels), peace has descended. All of the fruitcake and almost all the Christmas sweeties have been snarfed and we are graduallyContinue reading “New year nip”
Knocked for six
Not going to lie I’m feeling a bit feek and weeble today. We walked the pooch in the murk and then I settled in to mince pie making, having received representations about the insufficiency of supplies yesterday. As I was rolling the pastry I felt positively wobbly. Obviously I continued and achieved the epic successContinue reading “Knocked for six”
Slip sliding away
We are in welly season. We celebrated Lyra’s 6th birthday with a sunny walk along the river in Norham only to find that the “low road” had been converted into a foot deep duck superhighway. Choosing the better part of valour, for once, Mum and I took the high road rather than wade through. EvenContinue reading “Slip sliding away”
from dreaming spires to forest pyres
The beginning of the month brought a spectacular downpour. Lyra was all for waiting it out and retreated to the spot under the table that is just out of easy reach for a woman with a lead. However, when faced with the smell of a venison twisty bar found herself unable to resist. We thenContinue reading “from dreaming spires to forest pyres”
Nature dudettes at large
When Lachlan was a small boy, much addicted to natural history programmes he declared that when he growed up he was doing to be a nature dude on the telly. With a late change of heart toward caring for the human species, a family vacancy for nature dudes has emerged. Over the last few weeksContinue reading “Nature dudettes at large”
The fruits of our labour
Productivity (of a non gardening variety) has been restored – somewhat – on the old homestead. Keith went off a couple of weeks ago to enjoy a lads’ weekend with Lachlan, pruning and tying up the rose around his door (and visiting the pub next door every hour or so as far as I canContinue reading “The fruits of our labour”
Strange fruit
Last Saturday it was, finally, my turn to take Lyra to the groomers. Lachlan had to work and Keith has declared himself permanently traumatised by the last experience and unwilling to risk further mental collapse. Lyra is not enthusiastic about this trip and, despite being blind, seems to know exactly where she is going. SheContinue reading “Strange fruit”
An air of raspberries
It is a week of alternating sunny days and soaking days, with the occasional mashup of sunny downpours to add spice. The humidity on the hot days is punishing and so we try to keep Lyra’s walks to the woods or the river, where at least she can jump in to cool down. A plannedContinue reading “An air of raspberries”